


Wolves That Hunt Fairies

by GibberingGhoul



Category: Winx Club
Genre: Headcanon, Mild Language, Violence, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GibberingGhoul/pseuds/GibberingGhoul
Summary: Each Wizard of the Black Circle who has been initiated into the pack has in one way or another suffered due crossing paths with Fairies. A series of short stories illuminate why the Wizards have dedicated their existence to hunting Earth Fairies, ensuring that they never become sheep but always remain wolves.
Kudos: 5





	1. Tale I: The Red Wolf Cub

Gantlos leaped from his cot as soon as he heard the adolescent wailing in his sleep.

"Mither! Mither! _Mither, no!_ "

The red-haired lad jumped to hands and knees. He reached into the night with his face contorted in the utmost horror, aged many years more than it should have been by the nightmarish memory that had transpired.

Gantlos was certain that was the expression that his mother's death had etched: the bonny healer cut down by the Fairy's soldier.

"Ogron!" Gantlos knelt quickly by his side and placed his hands gently upon his shoulders. He had dealt with night terrors in other victims, and he had learned that being his abrasive self only exacerbated their trauma.

"Lad! Nova's warriors are _gone_ ," he began. "We are safe in the forest, surrounded by the same game your father hunted and the bushes your mother plucked for cures. The sun shall rise soon, and it is only me and you and our horses and a brisk ride ahead."

As he spoke, he rubbed his shoulders and back gently, reciting an old tune his own mother used to soothe her children. Finally, Ogron awoke from the evil trance and leaned his weary head into Gantlos's chest.

"Maw," he groaned. "M-Maw and P-P-Paw and Egren and Elené—"

"There was nothing you could do," said Gantlos, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "You are powerful lad, but those Stag-men would have killed you, too. Honest to the Great Hunter, they were too powerful."

Slipping from Gantlos's grasp, the adolescent rubbed one of his sleeves against his wet nose. He curled against his blanket and whimpered.

The town of Nael'luk had been razed to ash and bloodied bodies two days ago. Gantlos has just been travelling through, following rumours that a Fairy who he had been hunting was just a day's ride from the town. Stopping at one of the inns, he had expected a short night's rest but instead had been awoken around midnight to screams and fire.

From what he had gathered in between pommelling the stag-headed warriors, some Fairy, Lady Nova, demanded that no one in the town survive. Gantlos did not ask why, of course; he focused squarely on killing as many of the fairy's damned thralls as possible.

Even his seismic powers had not been enough. He, too, was still young, and the warriors had outnumbered him. He had managed to rescue only one young lad, whom had fought as viciously as he but nearly had his head bashed.

"Mither…"

Gantlos cocked his head and leaned closely.

"How could they do that to Mither?" Ogron trembled as he whimpered. "How could they do that to Elené? She was only eight years young. _Eight years!"_

Sitting beside Ogron, Gantlos summoned his lantern, which hovered toward him shakily. He snapped his fingers twice, lighting it but turning the orange flame blue. No magickal beings would bother them if the flame glowed like a will-o'-the-wisp rather than a flame sparked by mortals.

"Only fools think Fairies are a kindly lot all the time, lad," said the hunter. "They caused my family unspeakable pain. That is why I hunt them and let every one else know that they should not trust them."

Ogron peered at Gantlos and sobbed, "I thought… I thought they done good in the world… They're s'pposed to help us. I never believed Paw when he said Lady Nova might try t' hurt us!"

The thought had flickered in Gantlos's mind once or twice as to why Nael'luk had been utterly destroyed. Usually, if Fairies wanted somebody, they just went after that one body, not the whole damned village, for the Great Hunter's sake. Fairies were starting to fear the other races—he was certain of it! Not quite sure why yet, but he knew one reason stemmed from a few people growing weary of them lauding their power over the forces of nature.

Gantlos stroked Ogron's brow and head. As much as he had intended to go after fairies alone, he could not abandon this boy after the horror that he had seen.

Not to forget, a wolf is stronger when he has a pack-mate by his side.

"I want to go home," said Ogron, "but I know I don't have a home. _I don't have a home—"_

"Hush, now, lad," said Gantlos, "before some sneaky gnome hears you and tells his fairy where we are."

The adolescent hushed, though his mouth quivered and his chest jerked with grief.

"I told you that I am not going to abandon you. I saw in you not the seed but the strong sapling of power growing in you. But you need to nurture it, and you need someone to help you nurture it, so that when you are older, you can avenge your family and your people, same way that I am."

"Truly?" asked Ogron.

"By my life," said Gantlos with a smirk.

Gantlos had not been prepared for the embrace, but he did not discourage Ogron. As long as the hunter's heart beat, he would throw himself before any obstacle to protect him. Ogron was sure to have power that might even rival his own one day, and by the Great Hunter, someone formidable needed to put these murderous Fairies in their place.


	2. Tale II: The Wolves Who Cringe

Once upon a time, there lived a hunter named Ilios. His family had long ago migrated from the land of _álfar_ , _jötnar_ , eight-legged steeds, and bear-sized wolves to the land of wizened and wise priests, fairies as tall as the _álfar_ , and wolfhounds that could bring down quarry three times their size.

Ilios grew to be a handsome hunter: strong of back, sharp of sight with eyes as brown as the fertile ground, keen of senses, and hair as gold as the torc he wore round his neck. Ilios caught the attention of a Fairy, one who stood high, Lady Medb. He had stumbled into one of the many grottoes that she possessed as he had pursued a heavy buck. By the time he had realised that he was in Fairy territory and needed to return, her servants descended upon him and led him away to her court.

Lady Medb demanded, "Why have you trespassed on Fairy land, mortal?"

Ilios replied, "It was too late by the time I realised it, Your Excellence, but I tried to turn back. Honest to the Great Hunter, I tried."

Lady Medb said, "Do you not know that the buck you chased is under my protection? As are all who dwell in my lands?"

Still standing tall, Ilios said, "I would not harm anyone or anything under a Fairy's protection. That said, Your Excellence, I hunt what comes near mortals. I hunt for food and for skins to keep my people warm. We use all we can, like the fox or the wolf, and we punish those who kill without need."

The Fairy used her magic to read his heart and knew that he spoke the truth. She forgave his transgression and released him although not without some regret. The hunter had stood before her without trembling. Despite how she could have easily cursed him, he stared her down, confident like her equal, little afraid of what his fate could have been.

Medb's heart stirred for the mortal. She desired to know more about him and if he might be worthy of the title of her Lord. Therefore, she sent her servants to follow his steps and wondered that, if she liked what she heard, he would requite her favour.

* * *

Anath stirred the bubbling contents of the cauldron after what she wagered was the count to one hundred or so. She kept up this ritual and in between scribbled notes in vellum pages.

"Father kicked you out again," noted a blond adolescent as he strolled to the woman with two rabbits in his hand, hanging by their ears.

Anath rolled her eyes and stirred the cauldron again.

"Since my last experiment expelled us from the house," said the Witch, "he _and I_ decided that it is better if I perform _some_ of my spells outside."

Gantlos rolled his eyes. As lovely as lilies smell, the pungent odor from his mother's last experiment drove the entire household out. The neighbors were kind enough to let them stay in their houses (although the family all smelled terribly of flowers for seven days). Gantlos's bow and arrows still hinted at the mishap, and he and his father still grumbled at how a Witch with so many years experience could falter so badly.

"She probably should not exercise her magick when she is sneezing and coughing as though dying," said his sister, Siduri, as they prepared the rabbits for supper. "Her memory goes to muck when she is ill."

"You know how worried she has been lately," said Gantlos. "That Fairy has been trying to make contact with her and Father again. She fears that she might come after us."

"Yes, well, worry makes her sick. _Every time._ And besides, Father seems calm."

"Father does not want to look worried," said Gantlos. "Mother already has a bad temper as it is. If he begins to panic, she might decide to attack offensively, and that would give the Fairies justification to 'defend themselves,' he says."

Siduri harrumped, but she was probably as worried as Anath, just better at hiding it, like Ilios.

"What is that commotion?" she wondered as her mother squealed and hollered.

Gantlos peered out one of the windows.

"Father has returned with the boys," he said as his little brothers bounced to their house. In reality, the two lads should have stayed home, but Ilios had sneaked them passed their normally keen mother, much to her fury.

"It is not as though he had taken them through the woods," said Siduri as she began to toss vegetables in their cooking pot. "Gwyrin's house is a mere seven houses north. They should be able to see their friends when they wish."

Gantlos hummed in disagreement but said nothing. Ilios and Anath had become chary of even short walks within their large village, and they fretted that Medb would attack, regardless if the streets were packed to the brim.

Eventually, the couple kissed and embraced. Gantlos had never seen either of his parents behave so affectionately, but their anomalous behaviour had grown for weeks and weeks. His hunter father usually seemed distant and was economical with his words. His mother, the fire-eyed, raven-haired Witch, had nurtured her reputation for being quick to bark, although restraining her urge to bite.

But his cool father and fiery mother complemented each other, and their witty, sometimes snarky remarks they made at one another had been their typical way of saying, "I love you."

Gantlos frowned. It was obvious: his parents were preparing for the day when they might not be able to say "I love you" not with the humour of life-long friends but with the sincerity and warmth of eternal lovers.

 _Something terrible is going to happen_ , he thought.

The day that Gantlos had dreaded would fall upon his family like the vicious hounds of a dullahan.


	3. Tale III: Fairies That Hunt Wolves

Gantlos's father rarely hunted alone.

Game was dangerous on its own. The boar bared tusks that sheered flesh with dagger precision, and the deer kicked and butted with enough force to break a man's jaw. The wolf roamed with little fear of men, and rumours proliferated that the bear continued to lurk in the deepest parts of the forest.

Magical entities only made the Hunt more perilous. Fairy creatures seemed more cognitive than ordinary boars and deer and wolves and bears. The Fair Folk Themselves were dangerously unpredictable, and Gantlos's father had had the misfortune to have a Fairy Lady fall in love with him, and he had failed to requite her love - less than sage decision.

Ilios and the townsfolk prayed and sacrificed frequently to the Great Hunter for not only successful hunts but safe ones. They could withstand meager bread and goat's milk for a month if the men could avoid getting gored or, worse, bringing down the wrath of the Fairies.

Nevertheless, Ilios missed the long, lonesome hunt, where he could meditate as he walked familiar paths, crept through his favourite glens, and nestled in rocky niches, hidden from his quarry's sight. He could focus on his connection to Nature without companions whispering salaciously about this maiden and sniggering about what so-and-so's cousin did with his flock.

One day, Ilios decided to have Gantlos accompany him. Anath warned, "Medb has not been active in weeks, but I do not trust this silence. It hovers like the eye of a storm and conjures fools out of safety, only to be swept up by the most violent winds."

As Gantlos filled his quiver and check his knives for their sharpness again, he heard his father say, "Faires have weaknesses; perhaps not as many as mortals, but they can be brought down."

"Do not treat Fairies as though they are ordinary quarry," said Anath. "They are more fierce than a cornered buck."

"That is why I go with my own magical help."

Gantlos smirked. He was nowhere near as powerful as his mother, but his abilities became harder to ignore each day. If he stamped too hard on the floor with anger or clapped too vigourously in jubilation, the ground trembled and the air shook, knocking everyone on their backsides. His powers had drawn a chuckle or two from his stoic father, but his mother fretted that he could hurt someone unintentionally.

The men gave their fare-well kisses to the women and the boys before trekking into the forest.

The forest was quiet enough but not eerily so. Most of the birds had gone quiet after the sunrise, and light breeze brought fresh air from the distant coast, rustling the branches. Only supernaturally-induced silence could spook the hunters: the kind where not even the _crunch-crunch-crunch_ of their steps could be heard on the forest floor even as they walked.

Gantlos spotted the wild pig tracks before Ilios: a mother and six sucklings. Ilios let the young lad lead, and when he needed to quickly correct him, he snapped twice and signed with his hands. He was secretly proud that he did not have to correct his son early or often this time. Gantlos had learned well from him and the other hunters in the village, with the slight variations in their style of hunting.

However, when his son ducked quickly behind some brush, Ilios gazed at him as though he were over-anticipating his quarry's senses.

"Get up, Gantlos," he whispered. "We have not found them yet."

"We need to go back," said the young man, face as pale of sun-bleached bone. "W-We cannot go further."

Ilios knelt beside his son and said, "What has befallen you? The quarry cannot be far ahead - "

"It is not with my eyes or my ears that I have sensed this," continued Gantlos, "but with the gift that Mother has given me. The energy ahead is _wrong_ , Father, we must turn back."

Gantlos was much like his father: he spoke rarely, saving his breath for as many important things as possible. He was also not one to quake with ease, and if he truly sensed some dire thing, then Ilios would be wise to listen.

"Let us go further," said his father, "to the count of one hundred, and if we do not see the pigs, we shall turn back. Do you agree?"

Gantlos thought for a moment and relented, much to his regret.

He let his father lead the hunt and let Gantlos count silently to one hundred.

The Fairies knocked the lad down before he got thirteen.

"He is the one!" shouted one of the Fairies.

"Bind him!" commanded another.

" _Gantlos!"_

The back of his head throbbed as he gazed up at his father as the Fairies worked their magick on him. Gantlos wobbled onto his feet only to have his back slam into a tree.

"Mind your business, whelp," said the commander, one of the seven ferocious creatures present. "Our business is with this haughty hunter."

"Mark well! He resembles our lord here greatly," said a third with condescension.

"Indeed! Well! We shall make sport of him after," said the commander.

"Why not sport of him before this one," suggested a fourth, "and let his companion watch?"

"Leave him be!" cried Ilios before a Fairy's magick struck him.

" _Father!"_

Gantlos did not give the Fairies time to be amazed at his outburst before he clapped his hands, knocking them from the air. He grabbed his father and hurried as far as his lean legs could take him before vines seized them by their ankles and parted them.

"Bind the boy!" Gantlos heard the commander. "Let him watch so that he may report all that transpires to the rest of his loathsome Mortal-kind."

" _Father! Father! Let my father go!"_ cried Gantlos, but they bound his mouth as well as the vines held him to a tree. His own magick was no use as he witnessed his father's torment, his guilt and shame consuming him for having failed to protect him.

* * *

Anath begged in the men in the village to search for Ilios and Gantlos. The chief and his advisers hesitated. The sun was setting swiftly, and a dark forest was no place to search for the lost.

"By the time you search for them," snapped Anath, "there may no longer be bodies worth searching for!"

"Mama!" cried one of the young brothers. "Look!"

Two ghostly forms walked toward the village. The people crowded around one another, children hopping to see what some of their parents barely could, men preparing their weapons and the few Witches and even fewer Wizards preparing incantations.

Siduri gasped. "Gantlos! Father!" She rushed to them as Anath nearly fell to her knees. Men and a few women rushed to help her bruised and bleeding brother as he ushered his far more bruised, far more bloodied, and naked father home.

"By the Dragon's mercy," Anath uttered, then she ran, screaming. " _Ilios! Ilios!_ By the gods! Ilios! Gantlos! By the Dragon! _No!_ "

Sobbing inundated the night. Any mind that wish to speak "I foretold this" was hushed as everyone who could help the battered men did help. Anath hushed her own fury as she grabbed every healing unguent and exhausted herself on every spell to heal her husband and son. Then she took what energy she had left and stood before the edge of the forest, shrieking curses at Lady Medb and all Fairies that had ever existed.


	4. Tale IV: The Tender Hearts of Wolves

Ogron nibbled on the meager rations that Gantlos had given him. The lad's body quaked with hunger when dawn broke, but his mind spun as he wondered, _Am I to blame for the destruction of my village? Why was not I strong enough to save my mother? Why did I not save her? Why did I not save_ _ **them?**_

"Come along, Ogron," said Gantlos. "The next town is nearly half a day's ride from here, probably the whole day with Belliferous carrying us."

The lad sighed and placed his scraps in one of his pockets before Gantlos helped him atop the grullo stallion. Nudging him gently, Belliferous resumed their trek.

"I never said, 'Thank you.'"

"Hmm?" Gantlos turned his head.

"I never said, 'Thank you.'"

"Mmm…" Gantlos turned to watch the road. "Survival does not care about civility. Only the selfish demand gratitude for saving a life."

Ogron's eyes widened, and he said, "But… But ya saved m' life! I cannot just let that go. I'd be a rude man to not say it and an even ruder man for takin' it for granted."

Gantlos smiled. The little redhead probably had a year or two before some villages or towns considered him a man. In Gantlos's strange village, one could not be called a man or woman until their seventeenth year of life, quite old in comparison to some places. Therefore, to him, Ogron was still a child and one who, he was sure, more shaken than he showed thus far.

The lad hummed and leaned closer, holding tightly to him. Then Gantlos frowned. Having been the eldest child, he had been accustomed to tending to his siblings. The boy was not a burden, but his presence made the hunt more difficult. What if they were to find themselves in a situation that mimicked the attack on Gantlos and his father not so long ago?

"If you don't mind my asking," said Ogron, "what brought you to our village? I know you'd 'ad hinted at it, but I… I didn't want to be nosy."

Gantlos sighed. He waited until Belliferous hopped a stream before replying.

"Fairy-hunting, as I have said."

"Did they do you wrong like… like _that_?"

"Mmm… Not as many people. But yes, everyone in my family was hurt by their cruelty."

"Mmm…"

They paused.

"Why do they do it?" asked Ogron. "If Fairies are supposed to be good, if they're supposed to tend to all the magic in all the world and make sure the world is fair and not so frightful, why would they do foul and frightful things?"

Gantlos had no reply. His mother had been a Witch. If the topic of Fairies arose in their household - and the Great Hunter forbid it because then she would rant a good hour or so - neither flattery flourished nor did she or his father mince words. Therefore Gantlos had learned from the start to be suspicious of Fairies. Experience only confirmed his teachings.

"Without people who can check their authority," he began, "those who have more power than others shall always hold it above the heads of the less powerful."

Ogron's grip around his waist tightened.

"It isn't fair, Gantlos," he said, on the verge of sobbing. "They have all that power, and not just that. It isn't just that they have power. It's that they act as though they are always _right_. They act as though they're fair, but they shouldn't be called 'Fair Folk,' Gantlos - "

"Shoosh!"

Gantlos could feel Ogron fuming behind him. As much as he shared the lad's antipathy for Fairies, this lonely forest was no place to be ranting about them. Either they or their spies and friends could have ears erect, ready to pass the message that two Fairy-enemies prowled; and he had not recovered enough strength to defend themselves.

With the Great Hunter's blessing, the pair arrived in the town before the land was black as pitch. After paying for small room with a circle of monkish wizards, Gantlos tucked his charge to sleep and walked into the humble courtyard.

Hunting fairies was dangerous and unthinkable to many who knew only good tales of the improperly titled Fair Folk; akin to stalking unicorns. Every scar on Gantlos's body had been a Fairy's gift for his boldness, and he had no intention of dragging Ogron into his quest.

 _Perhaps these kindly men would take if I ask_ , he wondered as he lay upon the cobblestone and gazed at the stars. _I would not have him lose what little childhood he has left, as is the fate that I and my siblings share._

''Great Hunter," he softly said, "if you are listening, what shall I do with this youth who has lost everything?"

"Gantlos?"

The hunter bolted to his feet, but Ogron had merely awakened, sheet tucked over his shoulders while a blue ball of light led his way.

"You must sleep," said Gantlos. "You cannot live without steady hours of sleep."

"I don't care to sleep unless I know someone's near," said the youth. "I always wake up, feeling like I'm… I'm on fire…"

Gantlos frowned. Wrapping an arm about his shoulders, he led Ogron back to their room and faced him as he lay beside him.

"Are you going to leave me behind?" asked Ogron.

Gantlos hummed contemplatively. Surely, he could not have read his mind.

"I do not know," he said. "I fear for you, though, for you have already lost so much. If you walk the paths that I walk, then I cannot guarantee that you shall survive. Someone must live who knows the truth about Fairies."

"Then why do you hunt them, if you know you might die?"

Gantlos sighed and sat slouched. One of his hands hesitated over the other arm, but eventually, he peeled back the long sleeve and created a ball of light.

Ogron gasped. It were as though a metal vine had coiled around his arm and seared the flesh. Then Gantlos rolled up the other sleeve to reveal the same condition.

"My father and I were attacked as we hunted one day. I tried to use my powers, but they seized us and tormented my father as I watched, bound and helpless."

He pulled down his sleeves and brushed his arms. "My mother tried to avenge us. She snatched the wings of the one who ordered the attack, but… but we lost her because of the injuries that they inflicted. Therefore, I have vowed to avenge my father and my mother by finding the Lady who made our family so miserable."

Ogron's blue eyes shined pale grey with tears. He dabbed them away with the back of his hands, sniffling nevertheless.

"Please," he begged, "let me come. I know it's dangerous, but… you're all alone. And then I'd be all alone. And we… we're all… we're all we have left. You came to my village, and you saved me. They wanted to kill us all because they were afraid of us and o' me and what I might become. I don't wanna be alone, Gantlos. I don't wantcha t' be alone either."

They knew each other only for a few days and only because Tragedy sneaked upon them in the location coincidental location. But Gantlos and Ogron knew each other better than either one knew the monkish wizards; and while Gantlos was certain they were a kindly circle, perhaps the youth was right. As he had thought before, the best wolf hunts with a pack, not by himself.

"Get some sleep, lad," said the young hunter.

And for once since the massacre, nightmares did not disturb Ogron's sleep.


	5. Tale V: Niamh the Wolf-Slayer

Villagers buzzed in and out of Anath and Ilios's home as they aided the grief-stricken wife and her children. Though she had the fire in her heart to attend to her husband and son, Anath continued to make mistakes with each herbal remedy. Finally, her vulgarities became so unbearable that the villagers drove her out of the house so that her family could know some peace.

The villagers had tempered their own outrage with the need to be gentle with wounds and carefully prepare unguents and tinctures. Their leaders would advise them whether to seek vengeance against the powerful Fairies or not.

Soon the chiefs announced that they would hold a village meeting. Though his wounds bedevilled him and woke him nearly every hour of the night, Gantlos fought his weariness and his troubled relatives so that he could attend.

"I must testify," he told his great-aunt Ethelinda.

Ethelinda was also a Witch, like her niece Anath, and she too had little love for Fairies. But she knew how dangerous they were, and she knew how dangerous Lady Medb was.

"What do you hope to accomplish," she began, "aside from riling the villagers? Would you rouse their anger to such a level that they cease to think? We need justice, not revenge, and careful thought, not impulse."

Gantlos clenched his hands and stomped, causing the house to quake.

"Be still!" commanded Ethelinda. "Destroying your family's home will not bring you justice. Very well—you shall go, but _I_ shall accompany you. You shall need someone to keep your temper in check, so that the chiefs do not quiet you themselves and think less of you because of it."

Through grinding teeth, Gantlos agreed and retired for the rest of that evening.

Then the day came, and each chief, sage, hunter, and Witch gathered into the stony temple dedicated to the Great Hunter.

The temple was not their place to gather, though. Traditionally, the village gathered in the Great Square, where conversations on any topic could be discussed openly. The temple was a sacred place, not to be penetrated by worldly matters. But the nature of the attack and the fear that Fairies or Fairy-friends might spy on them rendered Gantlos's people desperate. And after long hours of prayer beforehand, the Witches and the few Wizards of the village confirmed that the Great Hunter and the other gods would allow this exceptional event.

Gantlos came with Ethelinda in tow. To her chagrin, Anath came, clinging to her father and Siduri.

"You need more rest than your son," said Ethelinda.

Anath hissed, "I am well enough to testify, dove-hearted fool."

'Fool' had not riled Ethelinda as much as being called 'dove-hearted,' loving peace to the point of being helpless. But the elder Witch held her tongue, squeezed one of Gantlos's hands, and proceeded into the temple. One hot-blooded magician had been enough for her to control, and two? That made her own blood boil!

Packed with as many people as the temple could hold, an ageing red-haired chief, Cenric, declared, "Let this meeting commence."

Then he sat, and another chief stood—one slightly younger and with blue-grey hair. He was Deorwine, the chief in charge of the section of the village in which Gantlos's family dwelt.

"I stand before the Great Hunter," said Deorwine, "and I swear that I know this to be true: Brother Ilios and Brother Gantlos were attacked. They have said that the attackers were Fairies whom had changed into forest pigs and lured them deep into the hunting grounds, far from help. Their family suspects who the criminals are, but we do not wish to act until we are certain."

Anath hissed under her breath, "You old fool. How _uncertain_ can he be? What an insult—"

Anath's father hushed her as Deorwine continued.

"I ask the Brothers and Sisters who are present: if any of you can remember suspicious happenings before these attacks, say what you know but only if you can swear that you know them to be true."

Each villager to looked their neighbour, but none stood. Most had seen nothing, and the others had but did not want to speak, for they did not know if their memories were true, and they would not speak falsely after swearing to a god.

"If none shall speak," said Deorwine, "then let us hear Brother Gantlos testify."

The young man glanced at his great-aunt before he stood. She nodded and pulled back his cowl. He stepped before the chiefs, sages, hunters, and Witches.

"I... I stand before the Great Hunter," said Gantlos, his stomach clenching, "and I swear that I know this to be true: my father... my... My father and I were tortured by a pack of Fairies. Those of you here who have tended to him know what vile thing was done to him. And I was forced to watch."

Then he pulled up his cowl and turned round.

"Brother Gantlos," said Cenric, "you must give a full account of what befell you both."

Gantlos's muscles stiffened, and his hands clenched. He itched to jump and rock the temple, so that everyone would flee and not badger him describe the miserable things he had seen and felt.

"I shall not say what befell my father," he murmured. "I shall not relive that horror."

A middle-aged Witch with snow-white hair harrumphed, "If you shall not speak of that, then what of you? What misery befell you?"

The young hunter whirled round with a snarl marring his face.

"What of _me?_ " he asked. "What of _me?_ Was what I _saw_ not enough torture for me? Was not watching _them_ use the forest to _violate_ my father enough? _Not enough?_ "

The leaders' backs straightened, and their eyes widened. The villagers cringed as the walls rumbled, and the ground quaked as Gantlos stepped closer to the leaders.

"Obviously that was _not_ enough—no! What was once a beautiful afternoon in our favourite hunting grounds became spoiled and rotten and ugly and... and... _horrible!_ An hour before the sky turned blood-red above us, and after many, _many_ hours of assaulting my father, the most esteemed hunter in this _cowardly_ village, I was _abused_ like an old bull whom could no longer draw his plough and _branded_ like one. And you sit there with your belittling tone, calling _my_ account into question? Like I would _lie_ about something so foul? And use magic to make my wounds and my father's? _You—_ "

Before the young wizard could jump and summon a temple-shattering quake, a black wizard, Teutates seized him before his feet touched the ground.

"Destroying the temple of the gods will not get you your justice any faster," he said. "Her tone was wrong—I shall not deny that, Brother. But I shall not let your need for justice turn into a wild fire that burns indiscriminately."

Gantlos's chest heaved in and out and until finally, he sighed and relaxed in Teutates grip. As he set him down, he said, "Little Brother, I am sad that your wounds have been struck before they heal. But please, we were not there. You do not need to go into detail," he added as he gazed at white-haired Witch with her head hanging, "but we know must some things: things that may tell us the soldiers in particular who attacked you."

Gantlos sighed again.

"I can show you the brand," he said, and then he shed his cloak and showed the mark to the leaders.

As Teutates brushed aside strands of light hair, the chiefs, sages, hunters, and Witches stood and drew closer.

Beneath the root of his neck was a scar in the shape of an 'N,' penetrated by an arrow whose tail faced up and sharp head faced down; and upon the top of the second stem of the 'N' sat a star.

"I know whose mark this is!" gasped a blonde Witch. "It belongs to the Fairy Niamh, who hails form the court of Medb."

"Niamh?" puzzled the white-haired Witch. "I thought that she had perished during the Magnus Wars."

"This is her sign!"

"How do you know that no one has copied it?"

"Brother Gantlos," said the blonde Witch, "who led the attack? How did she appear?"

"Tall," he said, "with short hair as dark as twilight. Her wings shimmered gold like the risen sun, and the wings were lined with orange like the fallen sun. She wore red armour upon her breast and a red skirt, as did her soldiers."

The Witches gazed at one another, and the white-haired one shook her head.

"I cannot believe this!" she snarled. "The devil Fairy is alive!"

"Peace, Sister Frost," said Cenric, "this is no time to revisit old grudges."

"Ah! But the grudge has come to _us_ ," she hissed. "Yes! That holier-than-thou captain, she who values Fairy life above all others—are any of us surprised that _she_ was sent? To do this... commit this _atrocity_?"

As the leaders mumbled among themselves, and the villagers began to spread unfounded and half-founded rumours, Ethelinda joined her great-nephew and returned his cloak to his shoulders.

"My chiefs! My chiefs, please," said the blonde Witch, "I have no love of Fairies, but we cannot in good conscience retaliate against Niamh."

Anath, Gantlos, and those villagers who craved justice gasped and questioned and spat abusive names at her.

"She is— _she is much too powerful!_ " cried the blonde Witch. "And she is ruthless. For one who calls Witches cruel, she draws out of suffering of her quarry, and that is all we are to her—no! We are _less_ than animals, for she would sooner save a mortal dog on Hel's doorsteps than any man."

"What say you, Spomenka?" snarled Frost. "Are we to allow this crime to go unpunished?"

"Dove-hearted fool!" cried Anath. "Your soft-tread approach delays justice. Begone, you Fairy-loving whore—"

Spomenka bristled and shouted, "How dare you—"

" _Enough!_ " bellowed Cenric, and everyone held their tongue.

"I shall _not_ have any members of this village drag the entire village into a war, regardless of our triumph or not. Are you so comfortable inviting Hel to our doors? Are you so comfortable inviting soldiers who torture without a second thought? I want justice. But if your husband and your son with their level of skill and power could not avoid Terror, then we must set aside challenging these particular Fairies until we have a plan."

Frost and four of her colleagues snorted, while Anath turned and marched out of the temple, her father frantically following her. Siduri joined her brother and leaned upon him.

"What shall we do?" she wondered sadly.

Gantlos placed his hand upon hers as the leaders and villagers argued back and forth. Ethelinda had known, he thought. A hot head would only invite more trouble, more misery. His anger had bubbled for so long and finally boiled over that day, but Teutates had removed it from the fire, and his head was a clearer.

"Great sage," he said to the elder wizard, "I am afraid for my mother. Do you think the attack was meant to draw her out? Like wounding two lambs to draw out their worried flock?"

Teutates held his breath and thought for a moment.

"I do not think that was its sole purpose," he said, "for this was meant to terrorise your family more than anything I can think of. But it is likely that... might be the case."

Then he turned to Deorwine and tapped his shoulder, pulling him aside as Cenric and the other chiefs tried to calm the villagers present. After they exchanged words, they pulled Gantlos aside, and Deorwine said, "We must go to your house immediately and convince her out of whatever mad plan she has."

Gantlos turned to his sister and great-aunt and waved a hand to summon them. Then the five hurried out of the temple and hurried to catch up to vengeful Witch.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The author has written this Winx Club fanfiction solely for entertainment. No money has been made, and no profit in any form shall be gained, from this fanfiction.


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